


just a second with you

by virtuousboyofthecalithildir



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Sad gays, Soulmate AU, clock marks, like really sad gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtuousboyofthecalithildir/pseuds/virtuousboyofthecalithildir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where all humans have a special Clock on their wrists that matches their soulmate, Marshall Lee finds that even the smallest amount of time with his One is more than enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just a second with you

**Author's Note:**

> AU in which everyone has a mark displaying the time you’ll have with your soulmate, so it’ll first tell the total time you will spend with your One then begins to count down once you’ve met them. Based off a concept from Tumblr.

‘’Marshall. Marshall Lee. Hey, wake up, ding head!’’

Marshall Lee groans, cracking an eye open to see his friend, Fionna, standing beside his bed with her hands firmly placed on her hips. The green of her backpack, the blue in her clothes, and her golden hair are a sharp contrast to his gray walls and white bed sheets. Hardly in the mood for a morning that involves the energetic teenager, Marshall pulls his coverless pillow over his head and lets out a hiss that tells Fionna, in no uncertain terms, to go away.

‘’Get up, Marshall, you said you’d come with me to Flame’s birthday party.’’ She whines, snatching his pillow up and slamming it down on his shirtless back.

‘’I never agreed to that, Fi.’’ He snaps, curling up into a fetal position and pulling his blanket up to replace the protection of his pillow.

‘’Don’t try to get out of it! You totally said ‘yeah sounds wicked, Fionna’!’’ She protests.

‘’Right, Cake?’’

‘’Cake…?’’ Marshall sits up, now fully bristling with annoyance as Fionna’s cat walks into the room, seemingly to agree with the girl. ‘’What’ve I said about bringing Cake to my house, Fi?’’ he grumbles. ‘’You know she hates me.’’

‘’Cake doesn’t hate you!’’ Fionna disagrees, waving the notion off. ‘’Now get up and get dressed. The bus leaves in two hours.’’ She says, grabbing the small feline at her side to place her on her head.

‘’Fine.’’ Marshall says, but Fionna has already left the room and smacked the door shut, knowing he would give in. Marshall falls back into the covers with a resounding sigh of hopelessness. He likes hanging out with Fionna, and he semi-tolerates chilling with Flame, but he despises being around both of them at the same time. Much of it has to do with their wrists.

Yes, their wrists. Both teens bore a mark on their skin with a special clock. Every single human in this world has the Clock. It’s nothing special, merely a set of numbers that shows them the exact amount of time they’ll spend with their soulmate. Meeting your soulmate is the only way it will count down.

Fionna’s wrist had always been marked with ‘10 yrs’ and the respective months, days, hours, minutes and seconds those years entailed in very small numbers. Flame had been marked equally. Both clocks begun their countdown when they met at one of Marshall’s concerts. Despite their friends’ counsel, neither will admit to each other that they are bound in such a way. The way they blush and stammer around each other like school children is annoying.

 

Marshall’s only had ten seconds.

 

It isn’t like he’s bitter about it or anything. He used to be. Back when his adoptive mother, a scientist named Simone, explained the importance of the mark. He asked why his was like this. Short. Incomplete. She didn’t have an answer for him. He hides the mark under long sleeves and never allowed a single soul to see it. He would get questions. And just like Simone, he wouldn’t have an answer.

Marshall is in no way intending to cross paths with his soulmate. He knows that no matter the circumstance, it can only be painful. There’s always a sneaking suspicion within him, that the reason his is so short is because his soulmate will eventually leave him. He’s had somewhat crippling self-worth issues for years, and the assumptions that spawn whenever he gives the mark too much thought only aids to the problem.

With a pained moan, Marshall finally gets up from the bittersweet comfort of his bed, his back popping uncomfortably from spending over forty three hours laying there. He picks a dark gray tank top up from the floor and sniffs over it.

‘’...Yeah, whatever.’’ He mutters, shrugging and pulling the garment on without further scrutinization. He struggles into a pair of tight black jeans that had been thrown on his desk, then slips on a red plaid shirt from somewhere in his sheets.

‘’Marshall! You done yet?’’ Fionna calls from his kitchen, her voice muffled by what probably is his last strawberry muffin.

‘’Gimme a minute, Fi!’’ He returns, shoving his feet into his Converse sneakers. Now that he’s dressed, there’s just no way to get out of this.

~

The bus stop is dull, as usual. The sky is gray and full of clouds, which fits Marshall’s mood just fine. Fionna doesn’t seem to be bothered by the dreariness of the day. At least, that’s what Marshall gathers from her incessant chattering. Cake is hidden in the folds of the girl’s hoodie, unwilling to become a victim of the inevitable downpour.

Marshall remains standing while Fionna sits on a bench, his guitar slung over his back. Flame isn’t such a bad guy, and he likes Marshall’s songs, so he may as well sing the kid something for his birthday.

‘’You said the bus would be leaving in two hours.’’ Marshall groans, his head smacking against a nearby pole. The cool metal only increases the pain of his headache. ‘’It’s been two hours and it hasn’t even gotten here.’’

‘’I might have lied just to get you out of bed.’’ Fionna admits, with a sheepish grin. Marshall can’t bring himself to be annoyed. She’s only trying to help. He knows she hates to see him so secluded and listless all the time. ‘’You’ve been really low key about everything lately.’’ She adds. Marshall doesn’t say a word in response, merely closing his eyes and keeping his head rested against the pole.

‘’Is it about your mark?’’

The question stings him, like Fionna just reached over and slapped him. He turns on the girl, his features contorted in spontaneous anger. She doesn’t back down, her brows furrowed in unrelenting but gentle concern. They stare at each other for a long while, before Marshall gives in.

‘’It isn’t about my mark, Fio, no. ‘’ _Yes it is_. ‘’Don’t worry about it. I’m cool. ‘’ He assures her, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. Unconvinced, Fionna opens her mouth to call him out on the blatant lie, but is cut off by a soft yet angry voice.

_‘’Bonnibel, please, you’re being ridiculous.’’_

Marshall looks up, and immediately feels a startling warmth blossoming across his left arm and seeping into his chest, directly from his wrist.

A boy with bubblegum pink hair and violet eyes is standing dangerously close to the edge of the sidewalk, preoccupied with muttering angrily into his phone.

Marshall doesn’t understand what’s come over him. A flood of emotion sinks into his soul and he forces himself to look away. To ignore how this stranger mere presence makes him feel.

He refuses to pull up his sleeve and look at that damn mark.

~

Bubba threads his fingers through his hair, a soft noise of annoyance stifled in his throat. He hadn’t seen his sister in months, and when he finally works up the nerve to call her after their falling out, all she can do is yell. And yell, and yell, and yell. The riff between them, a woman named Marceline, is merely playing guitar loudly in the background, which only adds to the inconvenience of the conversation.

‘’I don’t want to argue, Bonni, but you make it increasingly difficult not to. For God’s sake, have some decorum.’’ He snaps, taking a step forward in his anger.

He doesn’t notice that he’s abandoned the safety of the sidewalk, he doesn’t notice the heat in his left arm or how it begins at his wrist and spreads throughout his body. And he definitely doesn’t notice the sound of desperate footsteps running toward him. All he can focus on is his sister and her irrational accusations.

‘’Marshall, don’t!’’ A young woman’s shouting throws Bubba back into reality, and he turns around. His cell phone slips from his grasp and his back slams into the pavement on the other side of the street. Horror clouds his gaze and forces him to let out a choked cry when he looks up. Just in time to see a pale boy’s body being thrown into the air by a fourteen ton bus that wasn’t even supposed to arrive yet.

~

Gasps. Shouting. Crying.

Wood cracking. Strings breaking.

More shouting. A phone dialing.

Pain. Pain everywhere, and yet nowhere at the same time. Splinters from his guitar shattering. Fractured bones and ruptured organs. Bleeding.

_I can’t see. I can’t see._

Marshall tries to talk, but he can’t even breathe. When he finally finds some strength to act, all he can do is snap his eyes downward to look at his wrist. His mark.

**10**

Rain dripping from the sky.

**9**

His arms drenched in water and blood.

**8**

Fionna’s frantic yelling into the ear of some poor paramedic. Sirens.

**7**

Warm, gentle hands grasping his cheeks.

**6**

Soft violet eyes, brimming with tears.

**5**

Bubblegum hair, mussed up and ruined from the shove.

**4**

Sun kissed skin, tainted with dirt and rain.

**3**

_‘’Please don’t die. Not now. Not for me.’’_

**2**

If he could speak, what would he say? 

**1**

_Just ten seconds with you are worth dying for._


End file.
